


The World Seemed Smaller

by zarduhasselfrau



Series: Camp Knowhere [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Extremely mild hints of Starmora that can mostly be read as platonic, Gen, Human AU, Meredith is alive bc Ego isn't a celestial and also because I said so, Nebula and Thanos are mentioned quite a bit, There's mentioned / suggested child abuse but no depiction or heavy discussion of it, They all met at camp, this is kind of proof of concept for a larger Human Guardians Who Met At Camp Knowhere AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarduhasselfrau/pseuds/zarduhasselfrau
Summary: On their last ever day as campers Peter and his friends made a promise to always be there for each other. It's 2am, Gamora's running away from her shitty 'adoptive father', and she needs them.It's time to keep the promise.





	The World Seemed Smaller

It’s a suffocating night in July and Peter has been trying to sleep for four hours. He’s wide awake when somebody messages _‘The A-Holes’_ and his phone buzzes its way across his bedside table.

_Gammy: Anybody up?_

He squints against the bright light of the phone at his lock screen’s clock. It’s 2am. Gamora keeps to a tight sleep schedule and Thanos enforces a strict curfew.

_Star Lord: Yeah_  
_Gammy: Can you come get me? My house._  
_Star Lord: You srs?_  
_Gammy: Please._  
_Star Lord: omw_

So Peter drives. He puts clothes back on even though his skin feels like it’s dripping with the humidity and they’re glued to him in seconds. He clambers out through his window and drops down from the porch roof onto flowerbeds that are already trampled half to death – because if he tries to sneak down the stairs mom will wake up and then she might stop him when Gamora needs him - and he drives across three towns without hesitating. Familiar roads turn into deserted streets lit by dim lamps turn into brick mansions on an avenue without potholes. He remembers the way just fine. It’s not even been a year since he got his license and he’s already driven out here for Gamora enough that he can almost drive on muscle memory. Sometimes alone just to pick her up for a drive or an adventure for just the two of them, sometimes with the gang, sometimes to pick her up so they can meet the gang somewhere else. He hasn’t kept count. It’s all just been a blur of Gamora – her relieved smile, her eyes, her hand on top of his for a moment - and one of the hundreds of mixtapes he and mom have made together. The Milano cruising away from Titan Avenue toward anywhere else, and Gamora’s hair blowing into her mouth because she has to put the window down, has to actually feel the brief freedom on her face. 

It’s not like that tonight.

He’s barely pulled up to the kerb when the front doors to Thanos’ mansion are thrown open and light floods out of the open doorway. Drowning in this light, dragging two suitcases and holding a plastic bag in her teeth, is Gamora. She storms down the front drive and only stops to kick the gates open. Peter stares. He should get out and help, but Gamora charges through the gates like she’s holding a single pillow. There’s a loud crash from the mansion and the front doors are slammed shut by someone who can only be Thanos. Gamora flinches but doesn’t stop. The noise jolts Peter out of his shock and he finally moves to open the Milano doors for her. She throws both suitcases into the backseats and slams that door shut a little too hard before clambering into the front seat. She shuts _that_ door so hard Peter’s scared the window will break. Then it’s all so quiet.

Gamora lets out a shaky breath and puts her head back against the seat, staring up at the roof of the car. She drops the plastic bag onto the dashboard. Shampoo, a flannel, a bar of soap. 

So, she’s finally doing it.

“I-” Peter begins but stops short. Somewhere behind Gamora another light turns on in the mansion. A curtain moves. Peter’s fairly sure it’s Nebula’s window.

“Drive,” Gamora says.

“But- Nebula?” Peter tries. 

“She’s not coming,” Gamora says, shutting her eyes and clenching her fists. “I tried, Peter. I tried.” 

“…I know,” Peter says softly, which he doesn’t but he believes her so firmly he might as well know. He can’t take his eyes away from the window though, can’t bring himself to leave Nebula. 

“Drive,” Gamora repeats.

He drives.

Not home, not immediately anyway. For a long time they’re alone on dark roads without another car in sight because this is a normal, quiet town where people go to bed at 11. They just drive around with no particular destination, like the lost and scared teenagers they are. Not that you’d know they were anything but fine from looking at Gamora. She breathes evenly, keeps her eyes focused straight ahead, and doesn’t so much as shake. Just as collected as she always is. She never lets anyone see her upset, the one time Peter saw her cry at Camp Knowhere almost seems to haunt her.

“What’ll you do?” Peter asks as they’re driving past a school. It might have been Gamora’s once, he doesn’t ask. She shrugs. 

“Turn on the air-con for a start,” She says, tugging her shirt away from her sticky skin and grimacing. “You want some music?” She asks, and Peter nods a little stiffly. She pries open the dashboard drawer and searches through a mess of tapes till she finds one of the Awesome Mixes. Peter notices a bruise on her shoulder, a couple on her neck, while she’s leaning over. Bruises have never shown up that well on Gamora and the fact that he can notice them is…. With a dull pang in his stomach it suddenly feels like he’s the one who might start crying. “There.” She skips every song until the truck is filled with the gentle, unmistakable intro to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. They both actually crack a smile, and the Milano drives on – a dim but persistent light in the dark night.

“You’re not going back, right?” Peter asks an hour later. The truck is parked at the top of a hill, looking down over Gamora’s town. It seems so small from up here, too small to hold someone as fierce and strong as Gamora. Did this place ever really trap her, contain her? It’s so empty, and the absence of lights coming from the town speaks for how little there is to do. Gamora could carry the weight of the world on her shoulders and this town that Peter could cover up and blot out from existence by raising a hand in front of his eyes, THIS town dared to hang around her neck like a chain? 

“Hell no,” Gamora huffs, and while Peter contemplates the town she’s focused on her phone. That’s Gamora for you. Always moving on, refusing to dwell on or even think about where she’s come from. Maybe she’s scared of the emotions she’d have to confront. Peter checks his too. The A-Holes has seen some activity.

 _Trash Bandit: Gammy did Star Munch get you out_  
_Gammy: Yeah._  
_Trash Bandit: I can come meet you guys_  
_Gammy: We’re good Rocket, but thanks._

Peter glances at Gamora out of the corner of his eye then looks back at his phone.

 _Trash Bandit: Want me 2 set your dads house on fire?_  
_Gammy: Nebula’s still there so no._  
_Trash Bandit: Want me 2 egg your dads house?_  
_Gammy: No._  
_Trash Bandit: Want me 2 throw a brick thru his window?_  
_Gammy: Yes but not tonight._  
_Trash Bandit: Where ya staying?_  
_Star Lord: W/ me_

“Your house?” Gamora blinks up at him. “Will your mother-”

“Gamora, mom loves you,” Peter assures her. She stares at him for a moment then shakes her head, puts the phone down, and stares out over the town with him. “Listen I- I know you don’t think of yourself as loveable but everybody adores you Gamora.” Peter turns to look at her, but she doesn’t move or react at all. The wall is up. “Really, you’re like our leader. Mom wishes you were her kid, Groot and Mantis look up to you, I think you’re the only one of us Drax respects, you’re Rocket’s favourite not counting Groot, and I-” He cuts himself off with a cough and flushes red. “I- you’re my favourite too,” Peter finishes awkwardly, and backs off, because they all have their demons and Gamora’s confronted enough of them tonight. All he can do is reassure her.

“Let’s go,” She finally says when Peter’s phone lights up with a fifth call from mom that he ignores. “We’ve worried your mom enough tonight."

Meredith Quill is waiting for them, illuminated by the porch light. When Peter kills the engine she gets up, minding her head on the hanging flower pot. (There used to be a bug zapper there, but Peter was always upset about the idea of killing things. Meredith replaced it.) She opens her mouth, puts one foot forward, and then immediately freezes on the porch when Gamora slides out of the truck clutching her little plastic bag.

“Miss Quill,” Gamora begins with a surprisingly level voice for the fear both Quills see in her eyes, “please don’t be mad at Peter it’s-”

“Perfectly alright is what it is darlin’,” Meredith Quill says gently, and instead of marching up to Peter she walks over to Gamora and pulls her into a hug. “Perfectly alright, it’s alright now. Don’t you worry.” 

Peter takes the suitcases while Gamora just stands there, bewildered by the affection. By the time Peter’s dragged the suitcases to the porch though she’s practically burrowed into mom’s arms, dark hands clutch at mom’s nightgown like a storm might wrench them apart at any moment.

“You can put those in your grandpa’s old room Peter,” Meredith calls to him. And just like that, Gamora lives with them. It’s a huge moment cloaked in mom’s quiet voice, the hush of night-time, and crickets.

The next morning (Though technically it isn’t the next day, it’s five or so hours later.) Peter practically crawls down the stairs and stumbles into the dining room. He’s half asleep so the events of last night don’t fully catch up with him until he’s halfway to said dining room. Suddenly all too aware he’s half-dressed because of the heat, he scuttles back up to his room and throws another set of pyjamas on. Then he’s prepared for Gamora and any awkward gloom in the dining room.

That’s not what he finds at all.

Rocket is sat on the counter that’s set against the wall with the pass-through to the kitchen. He’s swinging his legs and eating honey out of the jar with a spoon. (Asshole.) Groot, Drax, and Mantis are sat at the counter devouring stacks of mom’s pancakes. 

“Hi guys,” Peter says without even thinking, because this isn’t the first time ‘The Guardians of The Galaxy’ have appeared in his house before midday with no warning. He even has a suspicion that mom gave Rocket and Drax spare keys. The farmhouse has been sort of a haven ever since their first summer at camp. (Not as much of a sanctuary as Camp Knowhere but close.) Meredith Quill is, Peter is very proud to say, just about the only adult The Guardians trust. Her presence alone makes the farmhouse the safest place they can run to when life is hard. Running through private fields, scrambling over streams, exploring the ‘big city’ – where Rocket, Groot, and Drax live - and stealing shopping trolleys are just a few of their ‘adventure places’. But Peter knows what his friends need more than adventure is a place where they can feel safe, because they’ve never really had that have they? Hence the farmhouse turning into a place of unplanned weeklong sleepovers and lazy summer days.

“Nice PJs” Rocket greets Peter with a snort. Mantis and Drax wave at him, apparently too engrossed in pancakes to comment. Peter glances down at the Star Wars pyjamas he’d thrown on.

“You’ve seen these before asshole,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve seen my entire wardrobe.” 

“I’ve thought of a bunch of new insults since last time you wore those,” Rocket says. This time he’s talking around a spoonful of honey. 

“Can you put that honey on something and eat it like a fucking civilized person?” Peter asks, taking a seat at the end of the counter beside Rocket – who makes a face at his comment and rests one boot-clad foot on the empty chair beside Groot as soon as he sees Peter walking over. Apparently he’s claimed the counter and the empty seat for himself. Groot signs rapidly at Peter as he's sitting down. “I know he likes honey Groot it’s no excuse to act like Winnie the Pooh in my dining room.” Rocket kicks him in the arm for his comment and Peter slaps at his leg. It’s a half-hearted slap because he’s mid-yawn when Rocket kicks him. Groot wraps one arm around Rocket’s legs and keeps him from retaliating. This does mean he has to eat his syrupy pancakes one handed. “Not that it’s not great to see you assholes but why are you here?”

“We came to check on Gamora,” Mantis answers. She lifts a bag of what looks like bedding from the floor beside her chair, careful not to bump her plate of strawberry-laden pancakes. “I brought some things.”

“I came for the honey,” Rocket hastily adds, and then the other three guardians at the table are giving him exasperated looks.

“No. You didn’t.” Okay, so maybe Drax’s face is more confusion than exasperation. He pushes his half-finished plate of pancakes (Plain, Drax can’t stand the texture of most of the toppings mom has.) forward to lean around Groot and frown at Rocket. “You have been terribly worried about Gamora all morning. You only left her side because Miss Quill wanted to talk to her in private.”

“Dude!” Rocket hisses. When Peter ducks his face to hide his smile Rocket swipes at his head. Unfortunately, he can’t reach every guardian from where he’s sitting.

“What?” Drax asks. “You called me before my alarm to tell me to check the group chat.” Groot signs out that Rocket woke him up at dawn to drive straight here too.

“Come on man,” Rocket mutters, taking another spoonful of honey dejectedly as all his friends bar Drax try and fail to hide their smirks. “Fine, whatever,” He huffs, sticky mouth and all. Of all of them Rocket is probably the most loyal, but he’ll also probably never admit it.

 _“We just thought she would like to have her friends close right now”_ Groot releases Rocket’s legs to sign.

“Did she get any sleep last night?” Mantis asks, a concerned frown on her forehead. “When we arrived she was already in the kitchen with your mother.”

“I don’t know,” Peter admits. “As soon as I put her stuff in grandpa’s room I kind of passed out.” 

“She seemed happy to see us,” Mantis says. Then she pauses and bites her bottom lip. “I was just wondering though… about Nebula,” Mantis admits. They all tense slightly. Rocket stares down into the jar of honey and looks up from beneath his eyelashes, glancing back and forth between Peter and Mantis.

“Nebula… didn’t come,” Peter answers because that’s all he knows.

“So we just leave her there?” Mantis asks, sounding more distressed than Peter was expecting.

“We can’t exactly carry her out of her house against her will,” Peter tries. Mantis doesn’t look reassured. “Gamora has her phone number. If Nebula needs us then we’ll help her but Gamora couldn’t leave until she was ready and neither can Nebula.” There’s a long pause, and then Mantis sighs. 

“I’m asking Gamora for her phone number,” She says in a surprisingly clear voice. “One of us should check on her. Gamora is a complicated person to Nebula, I am not.”

“Don’t ask her today,” Peter pleads, all too aware that your average Guardian of The Galaxy lacks tact, and Mantis gapes at him.

“Of course not! Today is about Gamora.” Mantis looks down at her plate, and her entire face seems to soften. “And pancakes,” She adds. The group relaxes and they seem to collectively agree to push their somewhat turbulent past with Nebula to the back of their minds for now. Gamora needs them to be chill today.

“Can’t believe Gammy gets to live with you and your mom’s pancakes now Star Munch,” Rocket agrees. He is now deliberately making eye contact with Peter as he eats the honey.

“Cut that out,” Peter tries one last time. Rocket sticks his tongue out.

“It’s unhygienic,” Drax agrees. Rocket sticks his tongue out at him too.

Suddenly the serving hatch opens into the kitchen and Meredith Quill is pushing a stack of pancakes through it.

“Here you go Rock- Peter you’re up!” Mom disappears from the serving-hatch and closes it behind her. She opens the kitchen door and reappears holding yet another plate of pancakes with Gamora right behind her. “I’ve been saving this plate for you,” She stage-whispers to Peter as she pushes the plate into his hands.

“Thanks mom,” Peter says and kisses her on the cheek because Peter doesn’t give a shit that he’s a momma’s boy and if The Guardians had an issue with it they’d have been kicked out of the house years ago.

“You’re welcome,” She pats him on the head and turns to face the other guardians. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?” She asks, and as she moves away from Peter’s side Gamora steps forward to take her place. “Gamora and I were talking, I was just about to make her some breakfast when what do I see out on the drive but two cars belonging to my little Guardians of The Galaxy.”

“We’re not little anymore,” Drax points out. “Well, except maybe-”

“Hey!” Rocket snarls, sensitive about his height as always.

“Oh I noticed Drax, what with all these pancakes you eat,” She pats his shoulder affectionately and glances back at Peter. “Drax and Gamora had to help me grab some extra eggs.”

“I held a hen,” Drax adds. He’s grinning about it because he always has loved animals. Mom smiles, pats his other shoulder once more, and then turns to face the other Guardians. 

“Rocket,” She begins as she sweeps from Drax up to the shortest Guardian, “would my l-”

“Hey.”

“Would my favourite raccoon mind sitting on a chair to eat?” Mom easily switches her words. She takes the jar of honey from him and taps him with the spoon reproachfully. 

“Geez Quill we get into your make-up one time and you never let me live it down,” Rocket mutters.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve told you all to call me mom before,” Mom says as she breezes past all of them to the kitchen. "Calling me the same name you call my son is confusing sweetheart." Presumably she’s finally going to make her own breakfast.

“Only about a dozen times a year,” Rocket calls. Yet he still obligingly hops off the counter. “You want a seat Gammy?”

“Please,” Gamora whispers, making sure the kitchen door is actually shut. “She keeps offering me food and hugs and I appreciate it but I have no idea what to do but thank her.”

“Sure thing,” Rocket obligingly gives her the seat he was using as a foot stool and hops up onto Groot’s lap with the easy familiarity they’ve always had. Gamora and Peter sit down at the end of the counter while Rocket and Groot are fussing, and Peter gingerly taps her on the shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly when she turns to look at him.

“Not right now,” Gamora replies, and her voice is even quieter. She stares down at her lap where her hands are clenched in fists. Peter carefully, giving her plenty of time to tell him to stop, reaches out and covers both fists with his hands. Gamora doesn’t draw back, flinch, or so much as frown at him. Though she doesn’t respond, he takes that as a good sign.

“Are you okay?” He asks, because that’s all that actually matters. They can talk about it whenever she’s ready. They can sort through the garbage of the past the way The Guardians of The Galaxy always have and they can throw that garbage out or salvage something from it. If their little gang is anything they’re well-versed in dealing with ghosts: campfire story ghosts and real ghosts that seem to haunt you no matter how far you run. Whether those ghosts are actual dead relatives, live ones that hurt them, or a home that is never stable, always changing shape and location and size, or any of their other numerous Tragic Backstories. The Guardians can help each other deal. Gamora slowly looks up from their hands to Peter’s eyes, as if she’s looking for something in them. Maybe she finds her answers there, because her eyes drift to the other Guardians. To Rocket elbowing Drax in the side as he moves, Mantis covertly sliding one of her pancakes onto Drax’s plate while he’s busy complaining at Rocket, Groot desperately trying to get some pancake into his mouth without stabbing Rocket or Drax with his fork as they bicker. Peter feels her fists relax. She moves her left hand away and before Peter can react her right hand is holding his left under the table. 

“… Yes,” She answers with a small, soft smile and a squeeze of his hand. 

The moment is of course ruined by Rocket putting his feet up on Gamora’s lap so he can balance his plate on his own lap with less fuss, because they’re a bunch of a-holes and they ruin everything. But going by the fond smile on Gamora’s face… maybe she kind of likes the way they do that.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, like the tags say this is technically one small one shot from what I envision as a much bigger AU? It's got all sorts: lots more about the guardians and their humanised backstories, the story of why they're calling themselves The Guardians of The Galaxy even though none of them are going into space anytime soon, the story of how they met at Camp Knowhere and became friends, LOTS more stuff about nebula and gamora, hell even an explanation for how the Quills ended up in a farmhouse, and even some stuff set after this one shot when they go back as camp counselors and the earthbond mcu characters are campers. (That last one is what this au originally sprang from because I was complaining to my friend Ciara that the guardians should teach the avengers friendship. Big shout out to her btw for teaching my dumb UK ass about summer camps and supporting this au!!) But idk post infinity war I really only wanted to write this. I hope you enjoyed this semi proof of concept, semi "softness I needed after infinity war" fic.
> 
> So I'm hoping to write more for this AU and turn it into a series because it's kind of taken over my life. I don't know exactly when that will all be written up but I thought I'd put this up anyway to see if anybody would be interested.


End file.
